


COMMAND PERFORMANCE

by vanhunks



Series: "It's your move" [1]
Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 14:45:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12843417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanhunks/pseuds/vanhunks
Summary: Chakotay gives a command performance for the Captain of Voyager. She's the very willing it.





	COMMAND PERFORMANCE

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written sex scenes for a very long time, exluding perhaps "The Dancer" where it was rated M. So do forgive me if I'm a little rusty in that department. Probably the first of a few in what I shall call "It's your move", that sort of thing. 
> 
> Also, not usual for this writer, written in first person narrative, present tense.

* * *

I'm staring at the main viewscreen like my neck is in a brace or something, not daring to shift my gaze anywhere on the bridge. It's dead out there. No sparks, no nebulas, no stars, no aliens out to outfox us, no…nothing.

 Space the final frontier? Not from where I'm sitting next to Janeway, sharing a console, not sharing a touch or a look or even a collective sigh. As if she issued a wordless command that I keep my eyes on the road and try not to imagine the feel of silky cheeks against which I desire to brush my own. That would be like injecting me with her pheromones that course through my body right down to my toes, not that I would mind, mind you.

 So I glance down for once, my neck brace bending just so. My boot-clad toe seems to be doing a soft-shoe shimmy all on its own as I picture touching her cheek. I face the star-less expanse again, trying to distract my wayward feet from complying to the craving of ripping Janeway's uniform from her body.

 Yep, while the space in front delivers nothing but erotic meanderings, I glance to my right. Not really a perceptible move of my head, but more easing my eyeballs that way. She looks like a statue - nerveless, motionless, maybe even without a single thought - so glazed. But let it never be said nothing goes on in Janeway's mind when she sits so still and looking vacant.

 I sigh as I get up to leave, relieved to exit pheromone injections and ramrod statues.

 She's in my quarters, in my lounge. I try to hide my surprise, already aroused just giving vent to my bridge meanderings. But she's here, her eyes dark and heavy, pheromones bouncing off of her like little rubber balls aiming for my willing body.

 "Hey, how - "  I'm stupid, I know. Of course she can be there. She's the captain.

 "You all but invited me here, Chakotay," she purrs,  her voice filled with invitation. "Did you think I wouldn't notice your low breathing, staring at God knows what. Enjoyed watching your fantasy play out on your face. It's very revealing, Commander. Like I'm being eaten alive…"

 "So you noticed," I tell her, already aroused. I've got her where I want her, this tease who could send me in a spin by one look.

 But if Janeway can play cat and mouse with me, so can I. I am the master of self-control, is what I always tell myself. Closing the short distance between us the medicine wheel, my latest sand painting, boxing gloves on the couch, other inconsequential things shift only into my peripheral vision, I am aware only of her.

 I snake my hand around her head and pull her roughly closer. She's tiny, so I bend down to level with her face. I get this blinding image of Rhett and Scarlett O'Hara kissing, magnificent pose on all posters. I want to stick a poster against my wall of me kissing Janeway, just like R & S. Our breaths mingle though we never kiss…yet. I smell her breath, then overcome by temptation I kiss her hard, my lips burrowing into hers, our teeth clashing as her mouth opens. I am biting, just like al imagined I'd do to her. I have no restraint as she squirms, her tiny frame unexpectedly so strong that she pushes me away. Her bosom heaves, her yes flaming, like she want to attack me.

 There's blood on her lips. It incenses me.

 "Come here, Janeway," I command. She fights the attraction only momentarily before stepping closer again.

 "I want to do this," I promise as I zip down her jacket, my fingers following the movement down, grazing those breasts that seemed to awaken to my touch. The garment falls to the floor, but I don't follow its journey to the floor. My eyes force a connection with hers. I want to see emotions flitting there. I want to see craving and lust. Right now it's anger mixed with anticipation. I think the anger is good anyway. It heightens my arousal. "I expect an objection, Janeway," I challenge as I tuck my fingers into the top of her turtleneck and yank it from her body. Did Starfleet deliberately design the garments to tear just where we want them to tear?

 Then again, I put nothing past Janeway to have engineered the thing herself. So her bra joins the rest of her garments on the floor. I pull her to me, her tits pressing against my chest, her mouth against mine. I cup her buttocks and grind them into my crotch and ride her fully clothed.

 I take a moment to breathe. She mewls because I pause briefly, impatient that I broke a little contact.

 "I am going fuck you so hard you're going to have persistent vision of my cock rammed up your sweet pussy," I whisper against her bleeding mouth. "You're going to dream day and night of my fingers up your slit."

 "I don't worry about my persistent vision, Commander. I worry about yours. I have your balls firmly in my palms. Picture that when you're sitting on the bridge again…"

 I kiss-lick the blood, run my teeth over her lower lip. She's into me with little restraint. I taste the wine, or is it sweet nectar? I could make love to that too as I try to bite into those delectable soft lips. She is brave, standing  so rock solid and challenging me. I swallow her little puffs of panting pleasure. They lubricate my insides, make me more daring, firing my body for the onslaught to come. I love those little wisps of air - her breathing quickens, hardens even, her rounded tits heaving or jingling as they tease, invite.

 Her boobs fill my hands and I squeeze them so that her nipples harden and burrow against my skin. I like that, like that they spring erect at the merest touch, tingling in my hand.

 "Time to run is now, Janeway," I taunt her, knowing that her need has outweighed her objections.

 Her mouth seeks mine as her answer. Then, "You're all talk, Commander," she purrs. "I'll turn the tables on you yet…"

 I ignore her promise. "I want to take off your pants, like this," I mutter gruffly, my tongue slathering from her mouth down. There's salt on her skin, as I chart a trail of moisture against her belly. A flash in my brain as I imagine a giant worm slithering a path through tall grass, leaving slick in its wake.

 "Why do you laugh, Commander?" Kathryn asks as her hands grip my head to bury my face against her belly. She is oblivious of the long scratches my nails score along her thighs as I pull her pants down to her ankles. Already the marks turn an ugly, inviting red; they incite my loins, my cock so hard that I grit my teeth to suppress the urge to cry out.

 "My tongue and nails scarring crooked roads on your body," I reply in a muffled voice against her intoxicating skin. I pause briefly, then like a spitting snake her panty is yanked from her. I give a raucous, victorious cry as I gaze at the prize, breathing in her sex as I launch my face against her core, my tongue parting her folds. I remember to breathe, to frame a question.

 "Gods, you're something down here, Janeway? You want out?"

 "Too late to walk," she replies instantly, shifting to spread her legs. "Besides, it's a ridiculous question…"

 "Hot damn!"

 She is ripe, read to pluck and suck! Her hairs quiver as I breathe on her, her folds swollen to twice their size, enough for me to suck strongly on one. There is loud thundering noise in me, and I know that in a second, I will strike. With a strangled cry I cover her sheath completely, wanting to swallow and chew all at once. I want to sink my teeth into those trembling folds. I drown in the softness of her flesh. Lightning strikes in my head! Even the hairs of her mound move like little tentacles that attempt to draw me deeper into her depths, like sea anemones.

 I welcome the idea of drowning in my love.

 "Gods, Kathryn!" I cry again as I detach myself briefly from her hot centre, grazing all the way up until I'm standing against her. I bend down to trap her mouth under mine, letting her smell her sex on my lips. I grab a clump of hair and yank her head back.

 "Fuck you, Commander…"

 "Like you're here to discuss reports, Kathryn. Stuff it."

 I give a little cry when she grips my balls and twists them hard. She's screwing me!

 "I take that as a yes," I growl.

 "Any way you want to, Chakotay."

 "You're going to enjoy this," I order gruffly as I slide my fingers - three will do - into her dripping sheath and begin a slow thrust, the knobbly digits raking her tender passage. I enjoy the look on her face as I plunge deeper and rock her up and down. I swear to God I'll have my fist up her ally. She squeezes with every pounding into her. She emits a succession of deep heaves accompanied by inelegant noises, her enjoyment almost complete. I muffle my own scream against her neck.

 Then one last heave…

 A little ping. It bores into my brain. Message! Damn!

 I blink. Blink hard. Blink again.

 I stare stupidly at the vast expanse in front of me. Vast and dark and empty. I glance to my right. Captain's chair is empty. Where the hell did she disappear to? Then I look down, stare like a dim-witted fool at the console. The 'ping' message for me.

 BEFORE YOU DISGRACE YOURSELF COMPLETELY, COMMANDER, YOU HAVE FIFTEEN MINUTES TO REACH YOUR QUARTERS WHERE I AM WAITING FOR YOU. SEEMS HARD-ONS ARE NOT THAT HARD TO COME BY. BE GLAD YOU'RE WEARING DARK TROUSERS…

 Kathryn

 ************

 There is a trail of clothing from my door, its path erratic, like a drunken fly. I smile at the crude analogy. Jackets, tank tops, bra, panty, trousers in all directions, shoes impatiently scuffed off and flung across the lounge.

 Fighting, pulling, pushing, dancing, cussing…

 To my bedroom. Kathryn lies snug in my arms. She tries to bury deeper into my embrace, the aftermath of sex and moans still causing shivers. Whether its hers or mine, I don't care. Kathryn's nails had been busy during copulation; across my back - long searing scratches of which there were many. Some merged, I'm sure. I ignore the burns.

 "That's your trophy," she murmured earlier.

 "That's yours," I replied, caressing the bite marks on her breasts.

 I shift, pulling her to straddle me. She's ready, hair mussed, lips, tits, pussy  swollen.  I'm hard again, all thoughts gone as I impale her on my cock in an instant.  We rock lazily, her skin clammy, her face gone in the ecstasy of her orgasm.

 Then I hear it again. Where am I?

 PING!!! MESSAGE!!

 *****************

 END

 

 


End file.
